Yesterday was a rainy day in Sarajevo. In the morning we set off to one of the oldest Serbian Orthodox churches in Sarajevo. The church itself was beautiful in its simplicity. Many of the churches we’ve seen have been ornately decorate, overwhelming large, or both. With its simple iconography and ceiling a basic blue with stars, it was the buildings understatedness that struck me the most. The most incredible part of our stop was still to come though. While visiting the church, we had the opportunity to hear a Sarajevo Serb tell his story. The next paragraph is Dragan’s story reconstructed by my notes as best I can – it deserves more than a summary.
Before the war all three ethnic nations (Muslim, Catholic/Croat, Serb/Orthodox) lived together with little to no problems. They were actually living together too, not just side by side, with intertwined lives. Dragan’s best friend all through childhood and into adulthood was a Muslim; no one cared about the ethnic backgrounds of their neighbors. Even though he and his friend were of separate religions, each was always invited to the feast days of the other’s family. However, this all began to change in 1990 when the invites from Dragan’s friend stopped coming. Apparently, the friend’s father had come out and said that all Serbs were the enemy of Muslims. Yet there was an inherent contradiction in this, Dragan had not been his enemy for the last 20 years. The war begins in April of 1992. In May of 1992, the lines fall so that both Dragan and his friend live on the Serb side of the line. Even though they are technically at war, Dragan refuses to hate or abandon his friend. Instead, he takes out all his money and gets his friend to Muslim territory. The two would not meet again until 1997. During the war, both families lost members to the war yet still there is no hate between the two. Following the 1997 Dayton peace accord, many of the Sarajevo municipalities with large Serb populations were given to the Muslims so Serbs left. Dragan’s family was one of these and this is when he next sees his friend. However, his friend was less than pleased to see him, he called Dragan the aggressor and said he should not even be allowed to sit on his territory. Given this reception, Dragan’s family leaves immediately and their apartment is taken over by a Muslim family. Three days later Dragan returned for more of his family’s belongings that had been left behind during their hasty exit. He was attacked by several men and beaten so badly he was in the hospital for a week; his friend was among those beating him. Even after all this Dragan refuses to hate his friend and attributes the change in attitude to his friend’s father and the media. Several years later a law is passed that allows Serbs to reclaim their property and Dragan returns to Sarajevo. During the reclamation process, he runs into his friend’s mother who immediately hugged him. Puzzled, Dragan inquired about his friend. Apparently he and his father had been heavily influenced by the Wahhabi Islam movement and had radicalized. His friend ended up going to Afghanistan and dying there. The first call his father made was to Dragan because his son had mentioned that he was the best friend he’d ever had; Dragan was able to attend the funeral and not be bothered due to the father’s interference. His father passed away not long after but Dragan remains extremely close to his friend’s mother to this day. He had also helped several other families escape during the war but most deny he ever helped them. It was interesting to note that although schools are not separated, his son is the only Serb in his school. Also, although intermarriages were commonplace before the war, they are extremely rare today and those couples typically have a hard time living there. It was amazing to note how despite all that had happened, Dragan was still incredibly hopeful and positive. It gives me hope that the issues that plague this region may actually be solved, that there is a way it can work even if we haven’t found it yet.
After we left the church, we exchanged some currency, giving some of us 4 in our wallets, and then it began to rain. Scattering for shelter and food, some of us found a place that had both. A leisurely lunch later, we stopped at a bookstore for new reading material and postcards. Then it was time for what these sorts of rainy days are made for, curling up writing and reading. Now I only need to find some stamps…. During a break in the rain we went for food, finding a donor kabob place that was amazing, especially when you add in delicious bakery for desert. On the way back to our hotel (Hotel Hayat and no that is not a typo), the sky opened up from just a steady rain to a downpour. We ran the rest of the way up the hill, getting more an d more soaked but laughing all the while – it was the kind of night that was just what the doctor ordered for our little gang. In a completely unrelated note, it’s cooler up here in the mountains, somewhere between 70 and 80 these days, I love being able to wear jeans and not be hot all the time.
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